


Needlepoint

by Shampain



Category: Hunger Games Trilogy - Suzanne Collins
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, F/F, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-12
Updated: 2015-08-12
Packaged: 2018-04-14 09:52:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 744
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4560117
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Shampain/pseuds/Shampain
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p><i>“I'll get it,” Annie says. She feels still and silent, like a dead sea. Using needle and thread she stitches up the sleeve of Finnick's jacket with smooth accuracy. The needle whispers over his skin. She glances up and he is looking down at her, his eyes dark; for a moment she is distracted and she feels the sharp point of the needle sinking into her fingertip.</i> <br/> <br/>Annie Cresta, a talented fashion designer, helps out at a shoot for Johanna Mason's new collection.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Needlepoint

**Author's Note:**

  * For [BeesKnees](https://archiveofourown.org/users/BeesKnees/gifts).



> This was written for my friend, who gave me the prompt of Annie as a fashion designer and Finnick as a model. Hope you like it, darling!

Annie Cresta searches for her muse on the streets, between bolts of fabric, in markets and studios and magazines. She discovers nothing but variations in colour and texture, hidden shadows dancing across sidewalks and squirming within lace.

Then Johanna Mason – vicious Johanna, whose designs are like weapons, cutting over her models and turning them into blades and guns and axes – invites her to a shoot. “I want your opinion,” Johanna says. “You're so unlike me. I want your eyes, Cresta.”

Annie's eyes and the rest of her arrive at the eighth avenue studio, six floors above the street. There is cigarette smoke and wine. Johanna looks terrifying with her shaved head and jacket pieced together from dozens of different kinds of leather, different shades and patterns colliding. She is like a wild animal.

The model seems to have sprouted from industrial ruins. Katniss, a girl with sun-kissed skin and long hair, was made famous by a man named Cinna who turned her into a bonfire. His collection, Girls on Fire, is still making waves even two years later. But Johanna has Katniss now and the girl stares woodenly into space as her makeup is applied, creating dramatic shadows across her face.

“She's an inspiration,” Johanna tells Annie as she hands her a glass of wine. The photographer, Peeta, is fiddling with his camera behind them, testing the lighting. “She _needed_ to wear this collection.”

“I agree.”

“Where's the boy?” Johanna barks, suddenly, turning her head, barbed-wire earrings swaying against her cheeks.

“He doesn't fit!” comes the call back. “Hold on! We're altering!”

Johanna sighs.

“I knew they were making the sample sizes too small,” she muses.

Johanna had clearly wanted a male model who was more than skin and bones to provide the backdrop for Katniss. The man that floats in is like a flash of lightning above a restless ocean. He laughs, at ease; they have cut the clothing up along the back so that he can fit into them. It looks fine from the front, which is what is needed for the photos, but when he turns his bronzed and muscled back is revealed through the sliced fabric.

“Aren't I beautiful?” he jokes with one of the assistants, making her laugh.

Annie stares at him. She feels like she is looking at him through the eye of a needle.

They begin with the photos. The first batch goes off without a hitch. Katniss stares deep into the camera lens. Finnick wafts around her like he is deep underwater. Johanna peers over Peeta's shoulder, looking at the previews of each shot. “Good,” she murmurs. “Good. Good.” She exhales a cloud of cigarette smoke, nods.

After two hours, there is a tearing sound.

“I'll get it,” Annie says. She feels still and silent, like a dead sea. Using needle and thread she stitches up the sleeve of Finnick's jacket with smooth accuracy. The needle whispers over his skin. She glances up and he is looking down at her, his eyes dark; for a moment she is distracted and she feels the sharp point of the needle sinking into her fingertip.

A bead of blood wells up on the rounded skin. She watches as Finnick takes her hand and kisses it off. Her knees are weak, her head is swimming. _Silk and linen_ , she thinks. _Seaweed and water, storms and sky. Jewellery like driftwood and stones and sea glass. You are a selkie, rising up from the sea. You are not a man of metal or rock or bone, but sand and waves, coral and scales. I see you. I am drowning in you_.

“I'd like to design a collection for you,” she says.

He smiles.

She pulls her hand free and they part. His sleeve looks flawless, as if there had never been a tear there at all.

“What do you think, then?” Johanna asks, as Finnick settles into place next to Katniss, smooths his hand over her hair. She leans her head back, throat exposed. _Click_. _Click_. This collection will catapult Johanna into infamy.

“It's inspiring, Johanna,” Annie replies.

“Maybe Katniss can be persuaded to pose for your next collection. She really is something, isn't she?”

Annie gives her friend a sidelong glance, knowing suddenly that Johanna is in love. The emotion marrs her cool and jagged face like a dot of blood.

“Yes,” Annie says, for even though her reply will not make sense Johanna will not notice. “Yes, it really is.”


End file.
